


Nothin' Says Lovin' Like Something In The Oven

by cuddyclothes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Cheeseburgers, Demons, Food, Gen, Pb & J, Pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddyclothes/pseuds/cuddyclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of cracky food drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Like It Like That

Abbadon sat on her throne, made entirely of human skulls and a charming plaid seat cushion from the Vermont Country Store. “WHERE IS MY MEAL?” she roared. In Hell, there was no distinction between breakfast, lunch or dinner.

  
A demon approached with a mountain of steak. Abbadon glared. “IT’S COOKED!” With a scream, the demon exploded.

  
Another demon edged in. “Your Highness, this will be more to your liking? It’s steak tartare, raw sirloin with an egg and Worcester sauce.”

  
“You have done well.”

  
“Thank you!”

  
“GIMME!”

  
Shrieking, the demon exploded into fiery ashes.

  
Abbadon liked entertainment with her meals.


	2. The Happy Demon's New Brunch Menu!

  
**THE HAPPY DEMON SNACK SHACK**  
 _“Where Offal Ain’t Awful!”_  
BRUNCH $12.95

  
Includes free Bloody Mary (made from real Marys), Zombie cocktail, or Cappucino

1) Liver From Prometheus - We _Never_ Run Out!

2) Nun’s lungs. Substitute archbishop $10. Served with garlic aoli over chef’s choice entrails.

3) Heart (Beating) in sauce béarnaise surrounded by lightly singed dove wings.

4) Brains your way -- diced, sliced, whole, or rotting zombie. Choice of au jus, spleen juice.

5) Mystery Meat -- even smiting won’t make us tell what’s in it! In rich brown gravy, smashed garlic eyeballs on the side.

Bon appetit!


	3. The Best Of All Possible Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Inner Monologue - he loves him some food. Maybe.

**Whoa!** My taste buds had an _orgasm!_  
That’s what I’m talking about!  
I want to stuff the whole thing in my mouth--wonder if I could do that? I put all those corncobs in my mouth for Sam’s picture.  
But then it would be gone. I hate having to choose. It’s not fair.  
If only these came in bite-size pieces like candy. A whole bag of yumminess. Eat ‘til you puke. Yessss...might even eat my puke.  
Dude, that’s _gross._  
Who gives a shit?  
  
“How’re you liking the burger?”  
  
“Fucking icreble!”  
  
“Yeah, soy cheese on a veggie burger tastes great!”  
  
_Crap._


	4. PB & J

Cas regretted being an angel again. He missed eating.  It wasn’t just the PB&J. It was chocolate pudding, tuna salad, pretzels, those funny little candies that tasted like sweet chalk and had words such as LOVE and KISS ME on them. Now, everything was _molecule_ s. Maybe there was a solution...

 

  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hello, is this Dean Smith?”  
  
“Who’s asking?”  
  
“I’m Professor Schroeder at Kansas University--“  
  
“Hey, yeah, that’s in Lawrence! How are ya, Prof?”  
  
“Not too well at the moment. I’m head of the science department, and there’s a man in a trenchcoat in my lab licking the petri dishes.”


	5. An Apple A Day

Dean sat on the examining table, wrist in a cast.

“Young man, I’ve taken a look at your blood work. Your cholesterol is extremely high, your blood sugar level concerns me, and your blood pressure...” The doctor trailed off. “You’re one day away from a massive heart attack.”

“Cas!”

Castiel appeared. The doctor jumped back, gasping.

“What is it, Dean? I’m busy fighting a war.”

“Fix me! Doc, you tell him.” Staring, the doctor repeated Dean’s health problems.

“Very well.” Castiel laid his fingertips on Dean’s forehead, then vanished.

Dean smiled at the white-faced doctor. “How’s _that_ for health insurance?”


	6. Big Gulps And French Fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby has had it with the Winchesters.

Baby was fed up. Dean and Sam had driven her nonstop for weeks.

Which meant Dean ate in the car often. Cheeseburgers, french fries, soda. Napkins on the floor, empty Big Gulps tossed into the back, crumbs everywhere.

Yes, Sam picked up bits of lettuce from her floor, and occasionally cleared out the garbage. But most of the time the boys were too lazy to care. But Baby cared. She had to do something.

Dean came out of the motel, opened Baby’s door, and gasped. There was a napkin in the front seat, with nearly illegible writing.

**PLEEZ CLEEN UPHOLSTRY**


	7. A Matter Of Choice

Castiel was determined to beat this food problem. The stuff on the petri dishes hadn’t been bad, but not satisfying.

Water tasted like minerals. One Winchester had separated a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into its chemical components.

He remembered being hungry. He’d hated it at the time. It...sort of...hurt. But eating made it go away. He stared at the sign in the bookstore window. A photo of a red-headed woman with a grin, in workout gear, lifting a 5-pound dumbbell with one muscular arm.

THE NEW LO-FAT NO-CARB LOW-SODIUM DIET

Why humans would choose hunger, Cas would never understand.


	8. Nowhere To Hide

They are looking for me. There is no escape from the Winchesters, I know that much. Years of ganking everything that breathed, or didn’t breathe, and had once breathed and now didn’t or had never breathed at all--stop obsessing--

Was that Sam’s footsteps? Oh, no, oh, no, _please_ \--

Are they coming closer? No, no, no, no--

Phew! He’s walking away. The door closed.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

What’s that--what’s that? No, it can’t be--why me? Why do the Winchesters want _me_?

_AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!_

“I’ve been looking all over for this! Sam,who puts pie in a freakin' dungeon?”


	9. Weigh-In

Dean bit into his bacon cheeseburger, even better because he’d made it himself.

“Dude, you’re getting love handles,” said his brother.

“Love handles? Are you fucking kidding me? I weigh the same as I did in high school.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean dropped the burger. “Where’s a scale?”

“There’s a doctor’s scale in the restroom.”

“How do I know you didn’t mess with it?”

“I calibrated to the ounce, Dean,” said Cas.

“Okay, Gigantor, you asked for it.” Dean stomped off to the restroom.

“Thanks for calibrating it for ten extra pounds, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean’s “SONAVABITCH!” was reward in itself.


End file.
